


When Flowers Grow

by krysnel_nicavis



Series: The Writer's Un-Block Fic Collection [15]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Crossdressing Harry Potter, Getting Together, Harry has both male/female reproductive systems, I don’t know how else to tag this, M/M, Mpreg, One Night Stands, Pregnant Harry Potter, Teen Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vaginal Sex, harry is 17, intersex Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24871201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krysnel_nicavis/pseuds/krysnel_nicavis
Summary: A quick shag with the Best Man during Bill and Fleur’s wedding leaves Harry with more than just a pleasant memory. While it wasn’t what he’d planned when he’d decided crossdressing was the best disguise, he doesn’t regret the end result.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Charlie Weasley
Series: The Writer's Un-Block Fic Collection [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/566956
Comments: 15
Kudos: 686





	When Flowers Grow

**Author's Note:**

> Only tagged underage because Harry is 17. (technically not underage in the Wizarding World)  
> \- - - - -

When it had been suggested that he polyjuice himself to look like a random redhead, and pretend to be a Weasley cousin, Harry vetoed the idea immediately. His last disastrous experience with polyjuice aside, he had a much better idea. One that didn’t have a time limit and require multiple doses of the bizarre tasting potion. (Besides, it reminded him too much of Barty Crouch Jr back in fourth year.)

No. Harry would much rather go with his idea.

* * *

Back during the summer after third year – when the Dursleys first found out his godfather was (supposedly) a homicidal maniac – he’d been given relatively free reign on his free time. Sure, he still had plenty of chores, but they didn’t actually take up much of his time anymore. So, with his new found freedom, he wandered about Surrey.

On one of these outings, he’d popped into a convenience store for a treat. Outside was a group of three much older boys, possibly young men old enough to be at university. Harry, for the most part, was quite lean, nearly elfin in appearance. He realized that made him quite pretty. (It occasionally bothered him, especially at school where nearly all the other boys were getting taller and more masculine.) So it wasn’t too much of a surprise that, when he’d exited the store, the boys took immediate notice of him.

They’d quickly surrounded him. The one who was obviously the leader had stepped right up close to him, crowding him back into a wall. Barely fourteen, Harry had a fair enough idea of what they wanted from him, and he had no wish to give it. The towering boy was leaning in closer when a hand closed around his wrist, pulling him sideways.

“There you are! We’ve been looking for you everywhere.” A tall girl with light brown hair pulled into a high ponytail was now standing next to him, her hand still holding his wrist. Behind her was a group of four other girls. All five looked to be high school aged, the one in front of him possibly old enough to have just graduated. She glared at the college boys, daring them to do something before leading Harry over to the rest of the girls. They’d insisted he hang out with them for the rest of the day. Mariah, the one who’d rescued him, had even driven him home in time for dinner.

He met up with them frequently over the summer. Even spending a week sleeping over at Mariah and her sister Janine’s house. Their parents were nice enough, and he would have stayed longer if he hadn’t been invited to the Burrow for the Quidditch World Cup – the owls had interested them, but they’d accepted his explanation that a school friend’s family had trained them like carrier pigeons. He’d learned a lot that summer. Like how to cover his scar with makeup (and how to actually use it properly). During his week-long visit, he’d even learned that he rather liked dressing in girls clothing.

Over the years, he’d continued his friendship with the girls. They were the first people he’d ever openly admitted being Bi-Gendered to. (Madam Pomfrey likely knew, seeing as she was the school nurse, and he’d spent quite a lot of time in the infirmary.) And it had been Mariah he’d gone to when it became evident his female bits weren’t the ones that would remain dormant, and he’d gotten his first period shortly after fifth year ended – she’d sat him down and given him a blunt talk about condoms, birth control, and ovulation that left him blushing. (The information later came in handy when he lost his virginity to a muggle boy he’d met at the theatre.)

So, now, he was holed up in the Weasley’s bathroom putting all the lessons he’d had about makeup, clothing, and hair styling to good use. He utilized certain cosmetic potions and charms to aid and enhance anything that needed it – forever grateful for the hair removal potions that extended the time his skin would remain clean shaven. He’d even found a charm that would temporarily give him breasts, which would be perfect for today’s disguise. He dressed in a cute, knee length, black and tan dress with short, puffy sleeves and matching heels. His strawberry blonde wig – magically affixed to his head – fell around his face in soft ringlets. Dark brown contacts hit the recognizable green colour of his eyes. A little creative contouring, and no one would recognize him even if they were standing directly in front of him – no one except Luna, anyway.

He’d made the others promise not to worry over him, convincing them that if _they_ couldn’t recognize him, there was no way he could be in danger from anyone else. It was fun, during the entire wedding, to notice them all trying to look for him without appearing as though that was what they were doing.

Out of everyone present (excluding Luna), there was only one pair of eyes that had looked his way and not immediately moved on. And Harry had stared right back, flirting coyly just like his (kinda slutty) friend Nikki had taught him – Mariah didn’t exactly approve, but she’d simply warned him to be careful how he used that particular weapon.

* * *

He gasped as large, masculine hands roved up his sides, lips attached to his neck. Shortly after the reception started, after the Best Man gave his speech, said Best Man had whisked him away into Mr Weasley’s shed.

He dropped to his knees, freeing Charlie Weasley’s thick, hard cock from the confines of his dress slacks. He swore before taking the head into his mouth and sucking. Above him, Charlie groaned, head thumping back onto a shelf. Harry took as much of the impressive cock into his mouth a he could, using his hand to stroke the remaining length. Running his tongue along the underside of the head before closing his lips around it again, he could already feel his pussy leaking at the thought of having all of this inside him.

Trembling in anticipation, Harry bent forward over a workbench, hiking his dress up to his hips. He bit his lip as Charlie’s strong hands took hold of his hips. The moan Charlie gave as Harry reached back and pulled his black satin and lace panties to the side, without taking them off, made Harry’s own cock twitch where it was trapped in the waistband of said panties.

They both moaned as Charlie slid into Harry’s wet heat. Harry instinctively rocked back into him with every thrust. He gasped as Charlie lifted him up into his muscular arms, holding Harry up by his thighs and fucked Harry’s pliant body down onto his throbbing cock. Harry turned his head, one hand tangling in Charlie’s hair, pulling the man into a heated kiss. Harry came with a whining moan, inner walls fluttering around Charlie’s hard cock. The man groaned, dropping one of Harry’s legs to allow him to balance on one foot, his thrusting becoming uncoordinated. He groaned as he released his load deep inside Harry.

Harry sighed into one last kiss before shakily making his way back to the party, a single drip of Charlie’s seed trickling down his thigh.

The shocked look on Hermione’s face when, after news of the Minister’s death broke and they were all running in chaos, he was standing in front of her saying “Hermione, it’s me” was enough to make Harry grin. And when they’d managed to apparate away, even she laughed when Ron realized what Harry’s disguise had been.

It was months later, shortly after Ron had taken off, that Harry finally admitted his Bi-Gen status to Hermione. She’d been surprised, but, more than ever, he appreciated her unwavering support. Part of him felt incredibly stupid. His cycle was unerringly regular, and he hadn’t been due to begin ovulating for a few days when he’d had that quick shag with Charlie. He wasn’t sure how he’d have handled realizing he was pregnant if he’d been all alone.

Ron had been even more surprised when he’d come back. For whatever reason, Bi-Gens were completely unheard of in pureblood families. The news that the father of his impending child was Ron’s second eldest brother had garnered a much less shocked reaction. Harry had smirked gleefully when, after asking how Charlie hadn’t noticed certain aspects of his anatomy, Ron turned beet red as Harry explained how they’d kept their clothing on and Charlie had taken him from behind. He may have had a little too much fun with the details. It hadn’t stopped Ron from being both enamoured and excited as his niece or nephew grew and moved inside Harry’s body. Both Ron and Hermione were very attentive as his pregnancy progressed. Rubbing his back and feet and watching or feeling the baby move.

Harry considered himself fortunate that his pregnancy was never glaringly obvious, even in the later months. There was a definite outward curve to his stomach, but with his baggy clothes hiding most of the added weight, no one ever suspected anything. Though, given Ron’s reaction, it never would’ve crossed anyone’s mind even if it _had_ been obvious, unless they were muggle raised.

Not long after McGonagall had chased Snape out of Hogwarts and shields had been raised around the school, it became a moot point. He went into labour.

Madam Pomfrey hadn’t so much as batted an eye when he made it to the infirmary. He appreciated her professionalism. His labour progressed quickly. He’d had just enough time to nurse his tiny daughter, and clean himself up, before he had no choice but to leave her and join the others. He’d held her close, staring out the window as the shields around the school failed.

The house elf, Winky, had immediately taken charge of his child and, using house elf magic, she was able to safely transport the infant somewhere away from the castle. Where that was exactly, he didn’t know, but he’d decided to trust her with the most important thing in his entire world – along with a signed parchment he’d written ages ago, outlining who he wanted to care for his child should he not survive, and specifically who he did _not._

Everything he did, from the moment he’d left the infirmary, was with his precious daughter in mind. He would end this, one way or another. He would end this war. Even if he didn’t live to see her grow up, he’d fight to make the world she grew up in free of Voldemort’s tyranny.

* * *

He was seated on the partially destroyed bridge leading to Hogwarts front courtyard. Everyone was either inside, making arrangements for the dead, or had left for the day – to rest, to eat, to reconnect with friends and family, or even to just spread the word. Harry had needed a break. Some fresh air to clear his mind. So many had died. Classmates. Friends. _Family._ His godson was now a war orphan, just like Harry had been. Fred was dead. Of everything – seeing Remus and Tonks lying side by side, hands seeming to reach out for each other even in death, children like Colin Creevey – having to watch the Weasleys, having to watch George, reacting to the realization that one of them was gone… that was the hardest for him to see.

His gaze shifted from the distant view of the lake where the Giant Squid swam lazily, like it was any other morning, to the little bundle in his arms. His daughter gave little mewling cries, tiny fists raised by her head. Under the stocking cap Winky had procured from somewhere, her downy soft hair was dark, and her eyes were that ambiguous newborn blue. He wondered which genes would prove stronger in both traits. The Weasley and Potter hair tended to be quite dominant, and, from his memory of the Mirror of Erised, his mother’s eyes were the same way.

Gently holding one of her hands between his index finger and thumb, he spread her little fingers, marvelling at just how teensy her fingernail were. He couldn’t help but smile. Just six hours old and, being born minutes after midnight, shared her birthday with one of the most important days in Wizarding History. He brushed the thought aside. It was unimportant. He pressed a kiss to her head, breathing in her new baby scent. Despite everything, all the pain and heartache, the struggling… Right here, right now, he was content. He was _happy._

A shadow fell over him, blocking the early morning sun from his face. He looked up, muscles tensing when he saw who was standing in front of him. _Charlie._ His eyes were red, face splotchy from crying. But, as Harry studied him, he thought he saw hope in there too. It was guarded, but it was there.

“Hey, Harry.” Charlie shifted his stance, uncertain.

“Charlie,” Harry nodded in greeting. They stared at each other until Harry gestured to the ground next to him. “Why don’t you sit?”

Charlie settled next to him and they sat in companionable silence a while, watching the squid. He turned his head, eyeing the baby curiously. Harry watched as he bit his lip, waiting until Charlie was ready to say what was on his mind. “Hermione explained about the baby.” Harry was only mildly surprised at this. “I mean,” Charlie rubbed the back of his neck. “Ron basically blurted it out, but then nothing he said made any sense to _anyone.”_ Harry shook with silent laughter at the image of his best male friend stumbling through an explanation of something he’d only just wrapped his mind around. “But then Hermione explained it better.” He glanced up at Harry, eyes immediately drawn back to the baby.

“Did you want to hold her?”

Charlie swallowed thickly, nodding his head. Harry carefully transferred the little bundle into Charlie’s larger hands. He watched as Charlie held her close, staring at her with a look of pure awe. He was completely enamoured with her.

“Merlin, she’s beautiful, Harry.” He pressed a kiss to her head, a tear falling from his eye. He huffed, laughing shakily. “I don’t think I’ve held a baby since Ginny was born.” Harry leaned into his side, running the back of his knuckle along one of her cheeks.

“Are you angry at all?” Harry asked quietly.

“Angry?” Charlie looked at him completely puzzled.

“I did sort of lie to you. Back at Bill’s wedding.” Harry wrung his hands, glancing nervously at the man next to him.

Charlie’s expression turned soft. “Well, it wasn’t like I was asking for much information. I didn’t even ask your name.” He blushed suddenly. “Bloody hell, for all I knew, you could’ve been my cousin.” Harry laughed outright at this.

“I’m… _reasonably_ certain we’re not actually cousins. I mean, I haven’t actually seen the Potter family tree, but I think someone would’ve mentioned before now if we were closely related.”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “Cheeky.”

“What are we going to name her?” Harry asked, turning his attention back to his daughter… to _their_ daughter. “And if you suggest something like Victory or Victoria I’ll push you off this bridge and raise her alone.”

Charlie tossed his head back, laughing heartily. “Wh-what you got against those?”

“Nothing. I just have a feeling those are going to be quite popular over the next few years. And while we’re at it, I’m vetoing Harriet as well.” (Later, when Bill and Fleur announced their daughter’s name was Victoire, Harry would aim a knowing smirk at Charlie.)

Charlie shook his head, grinning. “What sort of name do you _want_ to give her?”

Harry thought about it. “I kind of want to give her a flower related name. I think it was a tradition in my mother’s family. She was Lily, my aunt is Petunia. I remember my aunt telling Dudley once that our grandmother had been Camellia, and our great-grandmother was Azalea. She even mentioned some distant American cousins named Clover and Fern, but she called them “hippies”.”

Charlie stared at their daughter, humming. “I remember a girl, she’d been on the Gryffindor quidditch team my first year. She was a seventh year, the Captain. And she was a hell of a chaser. She was smart, too. I remember anyone who insulted her got completely torn apart just from her quick comebacks.”

“Hmm. I think I like this girl. What was her name?”

“Bryony.”

“Bryony,” Harry tested it out. He brushed his fingers over his daughter’s hand. “Bryony Jane.”

“Jane?”

“It’s Hermione’s middle name. I don’t know about you, but Bryony Hermione just sounds ridiculous. And it doesn’t go with either Weasley _or_ Potter.”

Charlie chuckled. “Bryony Jane Potter. There are plenty of Weasleys, and sure to be a whole lot more in the future.”

They went inside where the rest of their family had congregated in a side room. They were making preparations to return to their Aunt Muriel’s for some rest. So many tears of sorrow had been spilled, the tears of happiness when the rest of the Weasley clan met Bryony were more than welcome. Mr and Mrs Weasley were as enamoured with their granddaughter as their son had been. Hermione had hugged Harry so hard when he told her Bryony’s middle name, he thought he’d heard something crack. Even Ginny was excited – “Finally, another Weasley girl!” and “I have a niece!”.

* * *

Honestly, Harry hadn’t expected Mariah would be quite this thrilled when a she found out he’d had a baby. He was only seventeen and muggles had weird hang ups about that. But the twenty-one-year-old immediately offered babysitting services anytime he needed them. Then she promptly threatened to remove Charlie’s bullocks with a paring knife if he ever hurt her little brother. Harry’d simply rolled his eyes.

“Since you put it that way, Mariah, I have something else I need to tell you…”

She took the news of magic being real pretty well. Harry’s summary of the last seven years, on the other hand, she may have had some issues with.

* * *

“Bryony! Come inside, love. It’s nearly dinnertime and your father will be home soon,” Harry called to his seven-year-old daughter. She was playing with some other children in the small village that was near the Romanian National Dragon Preserve.

After things had seriously begun to settle in England, Harry and Charlie had decided to move their little family to Romania. Charlie had been on extended leave for the first six months before he had to either return to work or lose his position at the dragon preserve. Often, Charlie would be at the preserve for two weeks at a time and only be able to stay in England for a few days whenever he managed to get away. By the time they decided to permanently relocate, Bryony was two and Charlie was almost desperate to be a more active parent. Especially when they found out Harry was pregnant again. On top of that, the distance had begun putting a strain on Harry and Charlie’s relationship. The rest of their family was sad to see them go, but understood it was best for the growing family.

Bryony ran into their cottage where her four-year-old brother (Aster) and sister (Iris) were playing in the living room. Harry placed three month old Sorrel in his bassinet next to the table in the dining room just as the front door opened, immediately followed by a chorus of “Daddy!”. He turned at the approaching sound of giggling to see Charlie – now his husband – walking with a twin attached to each leg.

So many things in his life had been thrust upon him by others and riddled with heartache and pain. But, thanks to a single moment of pure self-interest during a wedding so many years ago, he now had everything he could ever wish for.

He was definitely happy.

-30-

**Author's Note:**

> Harry/Charlie is one of my fave ships, but I realized I’ve never actually written a fic where them getting together actually works out.


End file.
